


there's a restlessness in me

by sunspots



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Epiphanies, Self-Acceptance, enjoy, or dont thats cool too, stomps on the ground i wrote this a while ago and just found it in my folder s o, suga gets real with shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunspots/pseuds/sunspots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an (albeit short) text about sugawara koushi- who he is, who he isn't, and who he wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's a restlessness in me

Sugawara Koushi is not outwardly impressive. He likes to think that he’s average- not too flashy, but not bright enough to outshine the people around him. When he walks, it is as though each step is a predetermined action. He treads lightly, with the calm, even steps, the elegant way in which his feet lift and fall back down to earth oblivious to him. When it comes to other people, Koushi can figure them out in a heartbeat- but when it comes to himself, he falls flat. Rarely does he ever think exclusively about himself- always degrading, always settling for second best- and he’s happy, living that way (or at least he thinks). He’s always the invisible man- the one running the show from behind the scenes- the one who sees everything but says nothing. It’s not that he’s shy- quite the opposite, really. Koushi loves people- he loves to help them, to teach them, to show them things about themselves that they never realized before. It makes him feel good to help others- it really does- but he knows in a small crevice of his heart that they won’t need his help anymore when he has taught them everything he knows, or when they start to become self-taught and he becomes redundant. He grows much too close to people and he never knows how much space to distance himself, so he ends up overstepping his boundaries. Sometimes people need their boundaries to be overstepped. People need a push, a prick, a pinch, a shove back into reality. Koushi needs a push or a pinch or a prick or a shove every now and then- but it seems that he will always be the one dishing it out rather than receiving it. But that’s okay- he’ll move on, he’ll adapt- he doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. He takes care of himself just fine.

Koushi’s eyes are swirling grey hues that are warm and comforting. They see people- emotions, faces, expressions: they see crinkling noses and wide eyes, upturned lips, genuine smiles, they see fear and doubt and every ugly emotion. They see happiness, confidence, pride: everything that makes it worth it, in the end. Those bright, extraordinary eyes that flicker and shine like fireflies in the night sky- the ones that spark and sizzle with new-found passion, with joy; He sees these expressions cross the faces of others many times, but he has yet to see it form upon his own. He supposes there could be a possibility it never will. He will always live an average life with average goals, with an average pain that doesn’t fade no matter how many smiles he sees. He can’t understand and he wants to understand because this should be enough for him- shouldn’t it? This selflessness he can’t control? This lifestyle of constantly giving, giving, giving, yet never asking for anything in return? One day, will he try to give but have nothing left to offer?

Sugawara Koushi understands _people_ \- but he can’t for the life of him understand _himself._

  
What he doesn’t comprehend is that he isn’t living- not for himself, anyways. He is living for the sake of other people- he wants to please, to help, to give and give and give until he is whittled away to nothingness. He finds a certain calmness in this, and he accepts his fate solemnly-

  
But one day he understands what he lacks, and he has to take a minute to let everything soak through the cracks, cuts and bruises his fragile composure has sustained- to revel in the fact that he is, and always has been, his own undoing. He is a loose thread that spotted by our ever observant gazes- the thread we weave around our fingers tightly and pull so hard that the blood circulation is cut off, as the red slowly crawls all the way to the tip of our fingernails. We attempt to remove this thread with sheer force. When the plan goes awry, not only does the thread refuse to break, but it begins to undo the article in all it's entirety, strip by strip, until all that is left is a pile of wool.

  
He’s never lived for himself before, and it strikes him hard like a sledgehammer to the chest. He’s winded, because now that he understands he might be able to smile like all the faces he has seen smile, and it breaks him from the inside out to even consider this to be a possibility in his life. He could be happy. Because with all the giving he’s been doing, he thinks it’s about time he got something in return.


End file.
